Dental trauma

What a day! I knew we had the equine dentist lined up for two days, and Max would get his annual check up either today or tomorrow. I wasn't worried about it in any more than a distracted way because it tends to be pretty unpleasant, but done with quickly.

I popped round to the yard at lunch time to check on Max because I hadn't done so in the morning. Shouldn't have really, since I was going to be there in a couple of hours for yard duties anyway, but felt the need to go, so I did.

As it turns out, my timing was perfect as the dentist was lined up with Max as his next patient.

The headcollar contraption that the dentist has to put on to keep the horse's mouth open looks like an instrument of torture, and that's bad enough, although all the horses seem to accept it with a surprised stoicism.

But then there was an "Uh oh..."

Our dentist is lovely, gentle, speaks kindly to the neds even when he doesn't know anybody is listening. When Max had to have two wolf teeth pulled and some machine grinding a couple of years ago under sedation, the vet in attendance advised that I could ride Max the next day as usual, while the dentist took me aside and quietly said "It would be kinder not to put a bit in his mouth for at least two days, better three, if that's OK with you", so I like him fine.

What he saw, and explained, is that Max's jaw doesn't meet straight on (just like me!) and he had a couple of sharp bits on his back teeth which needed seeing to as a result. He wasn't sure if he could do it by hand, because it's a difficult job, it takes a while, and we might need to get a vet in for sedation and that grinding machine. He had a go though.

I don't know if I can describe accurately to those who haven't experienced watching a horse get its teeth rasped down. There's the contraption holding the mouth open, there's the sheer physicality of trying to contain a protesting horse as ridiculously long and sharp instruments are inserted and used with great force.

Looking on, it seems nothing less than a wholly brutal process. Does it hurt? I don't know. Does getting our teeth cleaned hurt? Not necessarily, but it's not a walk in the park, either, and when it's done to us, there's generally not a lot of force.

Max was backed up into his back wall. He put himself there, we didn't push him there. The dentist was working and trying to keep him steady, and I was by his head, there to keep his head still with my hands. My shoulders were aching with the exertion.

All the while, I was watching Max's rolling eyes, his fear and confusion, his unbelievable willingness, under protest, to stay relatively calm and not just dash us both against the walls and run, which must have been his instinct, and was also well within his capabilities.

The dentist and I chatted, and I kept one hand against Max's head, and with the other, scratched his withers and tried to soothe.

"Don't fuss him," my YO advised. "Don't worry him with your worry. Do you want me to take over?"

I hesitated. Yes, part of me did want her to take over because I didn't want Max to associate me with what he was going through. But no, I declined and stuck with it because... I don't know why. Because I felt I should be there so he could have someone he trusts by his side. Because I could try to explain to him what was happening, knowing the words meant nothing, but hoping my voice would be a beacon.

"Good boy!" I encouraged. "You're almost there, and this is so much better than the vet and that machine. Please try to be brave and keep it together. Done soon, I promise."

The dentist retrieved another tool and got stuck in.

"Was I lying to him when I told him we were almost done?" I asked.

"Yes, but keep lying to him. It's keeping him calm."

Heart sank. "Please let this be over soon!" I pleaded to myself.

"He's really strong..." the dentist offered a few minutes later.

"Umm... yeah. He is."

"He's also really good. I didn't think we'd be able to get through this without the machine, but we will. He's a really good boy."

Pat on the neck of admiration from the dentist, and a blinking back of tears from me.

"Don't cry, you idiot!" I admonished myself, but man, did I want to sob.

I tried a few lines of our peaceful song, and Max's eyes rolled again, but this time with a "For the love of God woman! Are you singing?" edge to them. No Kookaburra for Max on dentist day.

Half an hour dragged by like it had a dead weight attached to it, but eventually, the dentist put down the last nasty tool with satisfaction and said "We're done. What a good boy!"

He removed the contraption from Max's head, gave him a pet and said his mouth would feel a bit strange for a bit, and if I saw him picking up hay and spitting it back out not to be alarmed, it would come good in a little while.

I thanked him and he left the box, door open, Max was unrestrained with me by his side and the open door beckoning escape.

He was sweating along his chest and under his mane I could feel it too.

Did he run for freedom? Did he heck. Beautiful boy stuck by my side.

"All right,Max?" I asked, tentatively.

"Gah! Ack! Ptoeey!" with wide, shocked eyes.

My poor man! I couldn't explain, I couldn't apologise, and I focused on horses living in the moment.

In that moment, post dental assault, he gasped and rested his head against me, blowing mighty breaths. Then endearingly lifted his nose for our "kiss" signal. In this case, a gesture of reassurance, I felt, a question: "Is it done? No more of that?"

"No more, Max. We're done."

I offered him a mint to take the taste of metal out of his mouth and stayed with him for a bit to make sure he returned to his hay and wasn't freaked out.

Had to go home and change, and should have had lunch myself, but couldn't eat because I felt sick with having watched my boy go through all that. I think I was more traumatised than he was!

Returned in about half an hour bearing appetising bites of pear, apple and carrot, and was lifted my Max's lusty welcome as I parked up, and equally lifted by his eager eating of the goodies while I knelt by his head.

The dentist is done for a year, and tomorrow is another day, but it is a bitless day, a bitless week. Max has had enough metal in his mouth to last him a while, I think.

None the worse for wear, out into his field for a roll and a play with his field mates.

What do we put them through, eh? And ourselves into the bargain.

At one point, when YO was in the doorway and dentist was working away, with Max agog with no route of escape, I said, "This is just so unnatural for them, isn't it?"

"I think pretty much everything we do to them is unnatural." was YO's reply.

Indeed. Quite sobering, that. I could write pages and pages on that, not just horses, but all domestic creatures under our domain... But I won't.

I will think, though, and my thoughts, at the moment, are that we are unworthy of such grace and trust. We should respect it a hell of a lot more than we do.

Ready steady Max

What happens when an unsettled horse doesn't want to even leave the yard to join two others on a jolly hack? Well, he can be led out of the yard by a firm hand with rider encouragement from aboard. Then what happens when Horse A affects Horse B (already prone to bouts of irrationality) as they all head up the lane and now two horses decide it's far too frightening as they prance sideways, bumble into each other and start kicking up with their hinds?

Who shall lead them?

Max shall! And he did.

One concerned call from rider being bucked, "Can Max take the lead?"

"Course he can," I replied with confidence. We just needed to get past the commotion, and then we were off at steady pony trot, Max looking ahead with ears pricked, and the two fractious neds followed calmly and sensibly.

Yes, Max has matured naturally as he has aged, but what he's doing now, proceeding with confidence, taking the lead in company and hacking out alone sedately, in my opinion, is largely down to the time we've taken over the past two years to go slowly, to spend a lot of time on the ground together, and to try to always make it fun for both of us. Keeping in my head that I have as much to learn from Max (if not more!) than he does from me has helped, too!

I was very proud of him yesterday, not only because he led the way with no fuss, but that despite two Other Horses telling him that danger was ahead, he summed up the situation and decided that there wasn't. This doesn't mean it's time to sit back and declare us "done". Our learning together will continue for as long as we are together, just as it should in all aspects of life; we can't know it all and there are always improvements to be made, enlightenment to be shone like a torch into murky corners. Our pace won't change, though.

Slow and steady makes Max and me ready for anything.

The company of Other Horses

Spring was ushered in rather brilliantly today. The weather is fine, I've got a week off from the office job, so after today's early shift at the yard and a few errands run, I was able to take up an invite to hack out with three friends from the yard.

Doesn't come up much for me because I keep such different hours than everyone else, and Max and I have become fairly accustomed to hacking out alone. But what fun we had!

Three big horses for Max to keep up with on his wee pony legs, three kind women who already feel great affection for my cheeky pony and remarked with delight at how happy Max looked as he jogged along, a cheery soul, with three tolerant horses that allowed him to mix in, overtake, and learn about personal space.

I can't even remember the last time we went out in company - must be over a year ago!

Max is becoming a stalwart steed on the lone hacks, but it was wonderful to feel him relax in the company of other horses. No need to be quite so much on the alert - horses will always be happier in a herd, I guess.

He tried hard to maintain his spot as second in a group of four, and occasionally tried to take the lead, though he's never sure what to do with it once he gets there.

He had a few stumbles, was a little inattentive at times, and found the ground hard going now and again, but basically it was a great outing. Not so much concentration on schooling or getting everything right, it was about having fun with my boy in the best possible circumstances. A bit of chat, a bit of cantering up hills, and not once did my boy try a sneaky graze.

At one point, as we stopped to look out over the Downs, one of my companions sighed and said, "This is what it's all about. Just this."

Absolutely right. Cue Lou Reed singing, "It's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spent it with you..."

Max on a mission

Don't know what got into the boy today. I arrived at the yard and saw his head out over his stable door when he heard me close the driveway gate. I'm accustomed to this, and the welcoming whuffle, but I've now been informed that his anticipation starts well before he peeks out of his box. I'm told that the whuffling starts before my car pulls into the drive, and those on the yard know I'm about to turn into sight because Max starts chattering away in his box just seconds before I appear, like an equine early warning.

I figured he wanted his hay replenished, so picked up an armful on my way to him.

Hmm... empty water buckets and a lot of water on the floor. No matter, I put the hay down, but Max was uninterested and nudged my shoulder then stared at me with his eager "clicker training" focused eyes.

I took his water buckets out, cleaned and refilled them, and tried to bring one back into his box but as I was awkwardly trying to get round him to set it down, he pushed against me at the open door.

"Max! Get back sir! What are you playing at? You don't barge... Hey!"

"Step back, tiny biped, I'm off!"

And so he was. Pushed past me and out into the yard.

I was bemused because this was not usual behaviour. Max is cheeky, but he's polite with it. Hastily grabbed his head collar as I watched his retreating bottom, trying to guess his intent. I figured he'd go for the hay storage, but no, he ignored it. I jogged after him, next anticipating he'd head for the feed storage to try his luck with the pony nuts, but no, he just set off straight ahead with determination towards the back of the yard and fields that are not in the direction of his own field.

It took a bit to overtake and contain him, though he allowed me to put his head collar on with no fuss and then looked at me with an expression I couldn't fathom.

"What is it, beautiful boy? What do you want?"

I walked him on a long lead and he was intent on going forward, but he didn't seem to have any idea of where he wanted to go. So I led him back to a convenient bit of baling twine and tied him up, then fetched his water bucket and plonked it in front of him.

One gulp, two, three... and the bucket almost emptied.

"Thirsty?" I asked.

I got sprinkled with drips as Max nodded his head emphatically.

"More?"

Another dousing as he shook his head.

I fetched a bigger bucket loaded with hay and placed it in front of him, and watched with some satisfaction as he tucked in.

"So what was that all about", I wondered, as I picked out his feet, all lifted and held up in a gentlemanly fashion.

There was someone in the distance blowing on what sounded like a tin whistle, and this seemed to pique Max's interest, but was that the thing he wanted to investigate? Had it been going on for ages while he was stuck in his box unable to work out what was making that confounded noise?

Or was it the beckoning sunshine that called him out? Or a deep thirst?

I'll never know, but while he was tied and content I cleaned his box, removed the spilled water, and replenished his bed and made it fluffy enough for him to have a comfy lie down tomorrow morning when he comes back in.

The fine weather is a tonic for us all, I guess. A welcome respite after a dreary winter. There still isn't much new grass in Max's field, so I know it wasn't the call of a lush field that called to him, but there's something about the sunshine, and this brief period where we can enjoy the warmth without the pesky insects.

I've already noticed that yard duties are suddenly getting done more quickly and seemingly with less effort. Go figure.

Maybe Max was just eager to enjoy being a horse with the sun on his bum. Can't say I blame him for that!

Frosted ponio

The sun was shining yesterday and the night time temperatures were not expected to drop to below 6C, so for the first time this year, Max ventured forth rugless. He's so itchy with his moulting coat, and he's only been wearing a rain sheet anyway, so it seemed pointless to tuck him into that when no rain was forecast.

I regretted my decision briefly this morning when the cats woke me up at ten past six and I saw frost on the ground. Still he survived happily and there was evidence of a few good scratching sessions and a roll or two when I groomed him this morning. Still no sign of rain for a few days, so he remains bare in his field for now.

Today we had an adventure. The Ent walked, and Max and I followed along some barely familiar paths to some downright strange ones. Max was definitely out of his comfort zone, and as we'd decided to travel a big circle, taking Max through our village, stopping at our house for a bit of lawn noshing, I dismounted and joined the Ent on foot.

Bringing Max back to our village meant bringing him to the fields he grew up in with his mother. It also meant taking him past her, since she still lives in the same fields. I was anxious about how Max would react, and not wishing to transmit my anxiety to him and therefore create a problem, I kept my distance and the Ent kept the reins.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Max walked past his mum quietly enough, even when she trotted over and hung her face over the fence to watch us pass. Then she gave a little whuffle and I saw the expression on Max's face change. He didn't answer but he balked at moving on. We encouraged him forward and made it to our house, through the gate, down the driveway and into the backyard. Head down, happy grazing pone.

We stayed for about ten minutes, moved Max to the front garden where the cats could look upon him in wonder from the safety of indoors, then back along the village road towards home (Max's home).

Max's mum called out as we walked away, and he answered. A lot and lustily. His dear ol' mum kept calling until we couldn't hear her any more.

Max relaxed when we finally left our village, climbed a big hill and hurrah! arrived at a well known bridleway. He lost the wild look in his eyes, and snorted and nudged happily again. I hopped back on board and we sauntered home for a long drink, a well deserved pear and a cool sponge bath.

I'm still pondering today's adventure. Max definitely loses his marbles a little when pointed down strange paths, but that is just lack of experience. It is also me anticipating Max losing his marbles, which helps him lose them. The more unfamiliar paths we travel, the easier it will get for him. For both of us.

Did Max recognise our village, the fields, his dam? I think so. Perhaps not in the way we would define "recognise" but being there certainly caused a change in him, and listening to his mum calling resulted in not just answering calls, but several turns to try and go back towards her.

This also poses the question of whether Max's mum recognised him. Again, I think so. She sees horses go by her field every day and I've never heard her call out at all, let alone several times over, to any of them before.

Whether Max attempting to turn back was actually to get a better look at his mum, or he was so confused by the change in the landscape that he thought that way was home is open for debate.

And yet with all that going on, he remained settled enough to graze at the house, he accepted direction, he stayed with us albeit with an arched neck and tail held aloft.

He did his mum proud today. Maybe that's what she was telling him when she called.

Happy as pigs in muck...

We had some of that today.

Must be the kinder weather, but today the sun peeped out, I showed up a litter earlier than normal at the yard, and despite extra dutes, I managed to finish in enough time to get Max primed and out for a wee adventure in the sunshine.

We spent ten minutes in the indoor school working on trotting, turning, bending, and then hey ho, out in to the wild!

The pigs continue their habitat, just off to the side of a main horse path through a big field leading to a stubble field, leading to bridleways.

I hear stories every day of how much fuss and bother it is to get various horses past the pigs, solo or in gangs, but am delghted to say that Max just goes forth.

Oh, he looks at them all right, and he sticks to the far side of the path, but he goes.

The pigs (and tiny cute piglets that Max didn't notice) were all blissed out in the sun, lying side by each in a huddle, like so many towel lying hedonists on a beach.

Max and I trotted by, and then up and around the stubble field. It wasn't so much a trot as a jog, and when we geared down, it wasn't so much a brisk walk as a plod.

I did take a second to consider whether I should push Max on into a tempo more smartish, but meh... he's been getting pushed on a lot these days and there's something to be said for the relaxed plod, the unhurried jog.

I spend so much time rushing, it was a nice change of pace to just relax and be in no hurry with my boy. We watched a hawk out on the prowl, we stopped to consider a few of the ploughed fields around us, and in a busy day, we had a little envelope where Max and I didn't rush, push through, elevate his paces or any of that malarkey.

We plodded and enjoyed, and Max's happy, relaxed snorts told the tale.

It's not all work and pressing on. Sometimes it's just an amble.

There's a lot to be said for ambling!

Back home for banana stretches, a couple of carrots hidden in his lunchtime hay, and Max was a very happy boy, and sent me off to my next job with a whuffle and a promise for our time together tomorrow.